


how they worked

by Antarktica



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angsty Start, F/M, Philinda one bed only, Post-S1E20
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarktica/pseuds/Antarktica
Summary: What might have happened after Coulson watched the video May dug up from his grave.





	how they worked

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be full on fluff. But my brain does what it wants.
> 
> For the Philinda one bed challenge

_“Oh.”_

His reaction wasn’t entirely unpredictable. Melinda had watched the video past the point that it would be healthy for her. She racked her brain over and over about the many ways Coulson would react. It was either those or just complete utter shock. At least, she was certain he was still himself. The freezing from shock had always been his signature.

Melinda wasn’t quite aware that she had that effect on him. Once she gauged that he’s not going to close the laptop himself, and to keep it from playing back again, she reached out, closing it shut.

She heard him heave one of the deepest and longest sighs she’d ever heard him do. He was _tired_.

“ _Phil?_ ” Soft-spoken. Gentle. Was this apology enough? They never say it, it wasn’t how they _worked_. Phil, despite having been an expert in communications, had his mouth gaped open and unable to utter a single coherent thought. Melinda thought it was ironic and she _waited._

A few moments passed and the only coherent thing Coulson did was to stand up from his chair and sit by the one king-sized bed. _Rest_. Maybe that’s what he needed. Her gaze trailed after his actions, all tensed shoulders and dry mouth.

“Can we not talk ab- “He’d finally mustered up the will, or rather the voice to speak. It probably wasn’t necessary as Melinda cut him off. Knowing full well what he’d say. _Can we not talk about this tonight?_

She always knows.

“It’s fine.” Melinda fixed the chair and started pacing towards the door. About to go out. Sleep was the least thing in her list right now. For Phil, he needed it. More than anyone else. And god knows she does too but—well she hadn’t initially assumed Phil would want her to stay.

Her plan was entirely show him the video and go dark. She forgot to put Phil Coulson’s effect on her in the equation.

 _“Don’t go._ ”

She must have fooled herself. She did not just hear those words. It was the complete opposite of what Phil had implied in his shouts—when she left. It was all still raw. Still reverberating through her ears and poisoning her thoughts. It didn’t make her heart ache as much as Bahrain did.

She’s still paying the cost of her secrets. And maybe she will forever.

“Please stay.”

A pause. Melinda turned around to look at him. Was he serious? Were her ears fooling her once again? Maybe, she got knocked out and she was dreaming—maybe.

“The kids got the adjoining room and I hoped you’d come back but they didn’t have anymore—”

“Coulson, I can go—”

“-You’re the only one I trust, and I don’t trust myself right now- “Melinda’s heart broke as she heard Coulson’s voice be mindful of a whimper. A plea.

“Okay.”

_“Okay.”_

Silence threatens to swallow up the little space they have between each other. It wasn’t the first time they had to share a bed. Melinda could physically feel the way Phil shivers ever so slightly, turning around, making the mattress sink beneath him. She wasn’t facing to his direction but she knows—so she turns around.

She’d decided to speak because reaching out or even the most ridiculous thought of wrapping her arms around Phil was just the unthinkable. “Phil. Talk to me.”

“-I have nothing to say.”

_I’m afraid of what I’ll say. What I’ll do._

_“I’m sorry.”_

Melinda knows Phil. Knows the way his voice breaks when he’s at his lowest. Knows the way the crease lines in his forehead would worsen. She knows the way his eyes drooped with grief, with sadness, with guilt. She knows he’d be comfortable enough on his side.

So, she doesn’t expect Phil to turn around and face her. His face exactly the way she hoped it would not be. Phil inches closer to her, and she _knows_ this. Except it had been her—at one point. Mirrors they were. It terrified her. Yet, she willingly welcomes him. Lets him rest by the crook of her neck—they oddly fit that way. She doesn’t really know what comfort she could possibly provide Phil at these times—after everything—but the way he basically nestles himself with her.

Too close she thought they’d meld together.

(Maybe they have.)

This night will be unspoken. Just like the many nights they had to face the familiarity of guilt, grief and pent-up emotions. It was always like this.

This was how they _worked._


End file.
